


Just Enough

by The Last Good Name (thelastgoodname)



Category: Lagaan
Genre: F/F, F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-05-03 18:07:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5301539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelastgoodname/pseuds/The%20Last%20Good%20Name
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She never returned to India.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Enough

She never returned to India. England would be enough, with its green fields and rainy days, crowded streets and overcast skies. There were some days in the spring that were nice, and some in the crisp air of fall. Some days in the winter were cold and gray and lovely. But after India, after Champaner, England could never measure.

On a day like today especially, England could not compare. The sun shone, the air was still, and there were boys in the green playing cricket.

"Eliza, really. You should stop this nonsense." Andrew frowned at her, holding up the papers. He sat at the table, the remains of breakfast still uncleared. Neither of them had called for Mary.

Elizabeth turned from the village green and the endless blue of the June morning, and met Andrew's eyes. "I have never done anything you told me, Andrew. Why would I begin now?"

Andrew tossed the papers on the table, stood, and took a single step towards her.

Elizabeth turned away from him again. Behind her, Andrew was silent; eventually, he left. The door closed softly behind him.

Elizabeth took a deep breath, and linked her hands behind her back. A redhead dropped a sure out and his opponents scored three. The next bowl went for a leg before wicket and the side was out, despite the red head. Andrew hadn't noticed the game before he left the room, and Elizabeth watched him leave the house, pausing on the steps to adjust his gloves before turning away from the green. He had neither watched nor played cricket since that day in the Cantonment. Elizabeth couldn't blame him.

Mary entered, and began to clear breakfast. She prattled on about her sister and nieces and a hoped-for nephew, and Elizabeth made noises of agreement when they were solicited. The redhead was the first batter, and his limitations in the field were immediately explained; his first stroke went for fours. He held his bat like Bhuvan. The boy batting opposite him, small and dark, reminded Elizabeth of Lt. Smith, Andrew's second in the Cantonment.

Elizabeth wondered what had happened to Smith. After she left India, after Andrew left India, they had lost touch with everyone they had know there with the exception of Yardley, and that was purely by accident. Yardley had taken a post as farrier to the Claybrokes down the Woodmancote lane. Elizabeth had struck up a friendship with Mrs. Claybroke, and often went riding with her. Yardley took good care of horses and they spoke of India on occasion. Andrew never went to Meston Hall and did not know the Claybrokes.

Once Mary had left, Elizabeth picked up the paper Andrew had been waving at her. The page was folded so that the article which had concerned him was showing; it noted that Annie Kenney had been released again. Elizabeth frowned, then crossed to the hall. She threw on her cloak, grabbed her gloves, and called to Mary that she was going out.

* * *

 

When Elizabeth arrived, Backsettown was in turmoil as usual. The front room was filled with ribbons and darning, and the hallway was lined with pamphlets for distribution at the next series of meetings. The other Elizabeth scurried hither and thither, breaking into speeches while inevitably trailed off when something more important arose. Elizabeth smiled at the bustle. Annie wasn't in residence, nor were any of the other leading women. They were safe in London, or as safe as possible given the circumstances; their recent arrests had made news, and their subsequent releases had secured another round of sympathy. The other Elizabeth seemed in high spirits, and there were more people than Elizabeth recalled seeing on her previous visits.

As she stood in the front entry watching, an older woman approached her, and offered tea. Elizabeth accepted and they shared a pot and discussed what the papers had said. The other woman felt that they were mere months away from achieving their goals, and she scoffed when Elizabeth suggested that perhaps it might take a while longer. Once they had finished their tea, the woman bustled away to sort some recent missives. Elizabeth sat, once more at a loss, until someone strode into the room and requested a volunteer for an important talk. Without stopping to reconsider, Elizabeth rose and made herself available.

The woman handed Elizabeth a pamphlet, which she accepted. She followed the woman into the green parlor, where she was situated with a pot of tea and a corner secretary, and she began proofreading.

The last bill had failed, the next had yet to be introduced, but the morale of her fellow women was indefatigable. Elizabeth sat with her pamphlet and a small pen and listened to the sound of hope and inspiration. An older woman on the other side of the room described to a young blonde the events surrounding the foundation of the WSPU, eyes glowing and hands waving. The young girl's hair was in ringlets around her face, and she stared at the other woman in rapture. Elizabeth hid her smile, watching the young woman become enthralled in a vision larger than herself. The three women sitting near Elizabeth were discussing the next campaign, commenting on strategy, commitment, and opportunity. They sounded like the men Bhuvan had collected to compete against Andrew, full of passion and enthusiasm, practicing new skills and embracing new ideas, absolutely refusing to contemplate failure.

The thought of Bhuvan made Elizabeth pause, and she closed her eyes, calling forth the complete conviction Bhuvan had held as he faced Andrew for the last innings. The smell of the heat and dust filled her nose, and she breathed deeply. In the distance, she could hear Andrew scratch at the dirt as he began his run, and the ball let fly— The girl closest to Elizabeth trilled laughter, and Elizabeth's eyes flew open. She stared at the women of Backsettown in confusion.

Elizabeth carefully scratched out the word 'necessary' and replaced it with 'imperative'.

* * *

 

The next morning dawned clear once more. Elizabeth took her breakfast in her room, avoiding Andrew, and dressed for riding. She walked to Meston Hall, spotting sparrows and robins in the bushes. It was still cool in the morning and her walk was pleasant; the road didn't kick up too much dust.

She met Mrs. Claybroke for tea in the morning room before their ride. Mrs. Claybroke was a strong woman, shorter and broader than Elizabeth, and an excellent horsewoman. She also made very good buns, and offered one to Elizabeth before their venture. Elizabeth accepted, and they shared news of the crops and weather. Meston Hall rented land to several farmers, and Mrs. Claybroke shared that there had been less rain thus far than expected. The crops were expected to be thin, and the farmers were deeply concerned. Elizabeth expressed her surprise, but Mrs. Claybroke waved it off. When they finished, Elizabeth left the morning room for the yard.

"Hullo, Miss Russell," Yardley said, when Elizabeth entered the courtyard. Mrs. Clayborne had remained in the house, to discuss the menus with her housekeeper. Elizabeth smiled at Yardley.

"Hello, Yardley," Elizabeth replied. "How is Conker this morning?"

"Fine form," Yardley said.

Yardley's Yorkshire accent was out of place in Sussex, more than five years after he had arrived, but it made Elizabeth smile. Yardley belonged in the Dales somewhere, working a pit or herding sheep. Instead, he got the south of England.

"Good," she said. "I think I'll be on Conker today. I believe Mrs. Claybroke mentioned she would take Bessy?"

Yardley nodded, and handed Elizabeth Conker's lead. "Indeed, she will. Will you be taking the high road?"

"Yes, I think. Have you been out that way?"

Yardley nodded. "It's a bit mussed, with the winds; a few trees came down, but nothing you and Conker won't handle."

"I look forward to it," Elizabeth said.

Yardley opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment, Mrs. Claybroke exited the house and crossed through the yard.

Yardley immediately lost his smile and moved away into the stables. Elizabeth watched him go. One of the grooms led Bessy over to Mrs. Claybroke, who was standing at the block. Once mounted, Mrs. Claybroke turned and began down the lane. Elizabeth drew Conker to the mounting block and swung up on the horse. Elizabeth watched Mrs. Claybroke and Bessy trot away, and then she turned Conker and walked him to the entrance to the lane. He strained a bit, but Elizabeth held him until Mrs. Claybroke and Bessy had gone a bit farther before letting him go.

Riding was still one of Elizabeth's true joys, even if the landscape around Henfield was less inspirational than that of the Cantonment and Champaner. At the end of the road there was only more road, Brighton in one direction and eventually, London in the other. Gauri with her beautiful smile and bright saris was a world away. Elizabeth pushed Conker into a gallop, leaving Mrs. Claybroke behind.

* * *

 

After they finished their ride, Elizabeth and Mrs. Claybroke sat down to lunch in the Meston Hall dining room. Lunch was cold pork and potatoes, and they both ate hungrily.

"Our Alice is the sweetest thing," Mrs. Claybroke said, "she spent her morning teaching her dollies to cook. The Governess said that Alice is the best cook she has ever seen, for one so young."

Elizabeth didn't reply, and instead concealed her emotions behind a second helping of pork. Mrs. Claybroke didn't seem to notice.

"And Jamesey!" Mrs. Claybroke exclaimed. "Jamesey took his pony out down the stream lane yesterday, and when he returned, he had a frog in his pocket!"

"The scoundrel, stealing frogs from the stream," Elizabeth said.

Mrs. Claybroke laughed. "He's so unlike his sister, so unlike how James was at that age."

"Did you and Mr. Claybroke know each other as children?" Elizabeth asked.

"Oh, yes. We grew up not five miles from here. I lived at the vicarage, and James' father was in the Army. India, you know."

Elizabeth tensed. "No, I didn't know."

"Yes," Mrs Claybroke said, and described how handsome the senior Mr. Claybroke had been in his uniform. Elizabeth made several complimentary comments, but her stomach was twisting.

At a break in Mrs. Claybroke's conversation, Elizabeth spoke. "My brother Andrew was in India for a time, did I mention?"

Mrs. Claybroke looked surprised. "No, I don't believe you have."

Elizabeth nodded. "Was Mr Claybroke's father in the North or the South?"

"Oh, South, I believe," Mrs. Claybroke said with a wave. "He died when James was nearly grown, and poor James and his mother had to go live with her brother in Devon. Of course, as soon as he could, James came back and we married."

Elizabeth nodded. "Did James ever go to visit his father, in India?"

Mrs. Claybroke laughed. "Why would anyone wish to do that? It's barbaric there, hot and putrid, and full of," her voice dropped, "those people."

Elizabeth flared her nostrils, and said, "I have been to India."

"Mrs. Claybroke looked properly ashamed, but said, "Oh, but you had your brother with you. It's no place for a boy."

Elizabeth considered her response, but Mrs. Claybroke continued. "I wouldn't want my Jamesey to go off to India. Just imagine who he might meet. Savages and loose women. I've heard they wear nothing over their," she gestured vaguely.

Elizabeth frowned and said, "Indian women are always fully clothed, I assure you."

Mrs. Claybroke did not look assuaged. "But, they are so barbaric."

"They are kind, and giving, and entirely civilized, I'm sure," Elizabeth said in an icy tone.

Mrs. Claybroke took no notice of Elizabeth's tone, and continued, "James said his father brought back a statue with the most grotesque figure, full of rampant—" Mrs. Claybroke stopped abruptly and her face flared bright red.

Elizabeth carefully stood. "I'm afraid I have a terrible headache, Mrs. Claybroke, I really must leave. I'm sorry, and I will come again soon."

* * *

 

The drought had created intense colors—browns and olives and tans—and Elizabeth's English hair looked otherworldly in the sunlight. The white of her dress hurt Bhuvan's eyes, and he would not look at her. She reached out for him nevertheless, and he leaned into her hand. Behind her, Gauri drew circles across Elizabeth's shoulders, following the line of her dress. Bhuvan turned his face in Elizabeth's hand, and pressed his lips to her fingers. Elizabeth inhaled sharply, and reveled in Gauri's hands around her waist.

Gauri released the fastenings on Elizabeth's dress, and unwound the sari skirt she was wearing. Bhuvan stepped back to watch, and Elizabeth and Gauri danced for him, running their hands slowly across each other's flesh, letting the sun soak into their skin. Bhuvan's bare chest inside his vest and the sprinkling of dark hair across it made Elizabeth and Gauri forget their task and reach for him together, moving in tandem and mirroring each other. Bhuvan watched them come, Elizabeth on one side and Gauri on the other. They divested him of his clothes, and he leaned back on the hilltop, looking out over the Cantonment. Elizabeth rested one hand on his leg, and Gauri caressed his other leg. As Bhuvan watched, they leaned toward each other, and he smiled, his face wide open. Even from the depths of her kiss with Gauri, Elizabeth relished Bhuvan's smile. It was only when Gauri grabbed Elizabeth's hand and pressed it to her breast that Elizabeth turned her attention back to Gauri.

Gauri leaned back against Bhuvan, and he kissed her as Elizabeth pulled free the layers of cloth around Gauri, letting them cascade across their collected bodies. Gauri and Bhuvan moved as one, following a dance that made Elizabeth's heart sing, and she knelt over their twined legs touching first one, then the other. Bhuvan's hands roamed from Elizabeth's hair to Gauri's, from Elizabeth's legs to Gauri's, from one to the other and back without stopping.

Elizabeth leaned forward, bypassing Gauri for Bhuvan, and Gauri let her, shifting back to watch but still trapped between their bodies. Elizabeth ran her tongue across Bhuvan's shoulder, and he shuddered underneath her. Gauri made a sound low in her throat as Elizabeth slipped her tongue into Bhuvan's ear. There were hands on her hips, and Elizabeth shifted with them, rotating and moving in time with her kisses with Bhuvan.

The sun shone on them, heating the ground underneath their feet, and Bhuvan pulled back and gestured in the distance. Elizabeth turned, and saw the Cantonment, a distant rider making his way from the village. Gauri's fingers were wrapped in Elizabeth's hair, and Bhuvan's legs were tangled with her own. They watched as the rider's trail moved farther and farther away, and then Bhuvan shouted, and Elizabeth saw the dark clouds coming. Gauri looked up and opened her mouth, and in an instant they were soaked by a deluge. Heat rose in Elizabeth's gut, and she laughed.

Elizabeth awoke with a start.


End file.
